Bullet Wounds
by Writer207
Summary: Friends check for bullet wounds, but brothers take the bullets for you. (one-shot) T for character death


**Bullet Wounds**

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The blaring alarm blocked out almost all sounds. It told the ex-government agents in the secret base that someone dared to break in.

Two brothers were running through the corridors of the base. The younger of the two ran up front, having walked through these hallways multiple times and actually knowing where they had to go in order to get out. Yet, their way out was blocked by several 'men in black' who were armed with Kalashnikovs. These 'men in black' were actually ex-militaries who were fired and ended up in this base. Their leader, once a special agent, Graham, had shouted through the intercom that the others should capture the brothers after their cover was blown.

Douglas and Donald Davenport immediately turned around when they saw the big guns and Douglas pulled Donald out of the way and to some other place. They ran for five minutes and eventually they managed to shake off the ex-government agents in this maze of dark corridors with bad illumination.

They entered a large, dark room. The noise made by the alarm was muffled thanks to the thick walls, so they could at least talk to each other without having to shout. Douglas switched the lights on and Donald's mouth fell open. This wasn't any room – this was Graham's secret weapons hangar. Donald was too amazed by the large amount of weaponry to move, while Douglas already continued their little trip through the base.

"You shouldn't have come here, Donnie." Donald sighed. Seriously, why did Douglas keep blaming him for blowing the cover? He hadn't done anything wrong, technically.

"I already told you it wasn't on purpose. I had no idea_ this _was their base! You should've warned me, then I could've taken another route." Donald firmly believed it was Douglas' fault they had discovered he was only spying on them. He should've made contact before this incident. He should've at least given Donald his current location.

"It's too late for that!" Douglas then said, not looking at his brother. "You know I couldn't contact you, it was too risky. Do you know how much they try to follow a new agent around? They even were standing in front of the bathroom door!"

"You could've done something," Donald eventually said, wanting to have the last word. He was certain he was right. Douglas should have at least tried to contact him. Douglas was smart enough to figure out a way to let his brother know where he was so the kids could take care of this problem. But they were only to interfere when they had become a threat to the USA, just like this moment.

They continued to walk in silence. It was a large area with long rows of weapons, all in racks that almost reached the ceiling. Every now and then they crossed a perfect junction of two rows. But they did not change rows, and just walked until they had reached the wall at the other side of the hangar.

There was nobody to be seen as they proceeded towards the area where the smaller guns were kept. Douglas knew there was a trap coming up. Graham saw them enter by use of the surveillance camera. They didn't have a lot of time before this place would be crawling with vengeful soldiers. Douglas did not know their background, but he knew they were willing to make the nation pay.

Douglas stopped walking and turned his attention to one of the boxes on his right. He was searching through them until he found what he had been looking for.

"Here," Douglas said, and he threw a small gun towards Donald, who almost dropped it, "use it." It only took his a couple of seconds to make it ready to shoot some bullets, while Donald had no idea what he was doing with it and he concluded that the safest thing to do for him was to just stare at it. Eventually, he looked up from the gun to Douglas, with a facial expression which could be translated as 'are you kidding me?'.

"How do you handle something like that?" Donald asked, " And how do you know how to handle it? You've always used weapons of the highest technology." Douglas grabbed the gun he gave to his brother, and made it ready for use before handing it over to Donald again.

"I faked my death, remember? My inheritance money went to you among others, so I had to work before I could afford one of these." He grabbed two more of them from the box, readied them both and gave Donald a second one. If they ever ran out of bullets, they could at least use a second gun and hope they didn't run out of bullets before the kids had arrived.

"But you worked with Krane and he's a billionaire." Donald, just looking around for any sign of life, for any target he could shoot at. Douglas had placed the guns on the ground and started to pick up boxes from the shelves, all further away from the wall, and then he placed them closer to the wall, leaving three or four meters of space. He was making some sort of wall with the boxes.

"We didn't work together in the five years after my fake death." Douglas explained, carrying a box filled with grenades to the make-shift wall, "After that, I could afford the best. You should be lucky at least one of us knows how to use this!" He moved some more boxes around, including placing some with other weapons he recognized to behind the wall. If they indeed ran out of bullets, he'd have a lot of weapons he could use to scare those soldiers away.

Donald wanted to ask him if he bought the guns and if he had a license to do so, but he shut up. This was something his brother was good at, and Donald admitted he was just a tag-along. He had no idea what would come, but Douglas would. He is, after all, the one who had infiltrated this base months ago to see what Graham was up to after being released from prison.

Eventually, their make-shift wall was ready; the boxes were placed in a way so they could shoot the enemy. It almost reached Donald's shoulders and there were five 'layers' of boxes, so shooting them through it would be impossible. The soldiers would be stupid to use the big guns in a weapon's area filled with other big guns which could make this whole place explode. They could only be attacked on the front – behind them was a granite wall and on their side were other make-shift walls, to prevent any of the former agents from trying to hit them on their side. Douglas had calculated they were trapped, but they did have the advantage. They were with two, their enemy had more people, but the corridors were only big enough to let three people pass at once.

"Did you contact the kids?" Douglas asked as he placed the last boxes in place. They now were truly locked in their little space with bullets, but with small holes through which they could shoot. Douglas asked it only because the doors closest to their position had opened. The enemy would be here soon.

"They should be here any minute," Donald replied, but I don't know if they've seen it."

"Good to know we can count on 'em." Douglas replied, waiting for the enemy to arrive. In the silence, he could hear the soldiers coming closer, looking for the two refugees. He remembered how they first started chasing them when he was busted trying to free Donald from his cell after learning his brother was captured by them. They were going to ask ransom for his release. Douglas tried to prevent that, but instead they now are waiting for the soldiers to come. He was surprisingly calm while Donald was trembling, face pale.

"Have you ever… killed someone?" Donald wanted to know. He sounded scared. Douglas shrugged it off. He guessed he was scared, too, but not as scared as his older brother.

"Not on purpose," was his response, "I was running from the cops and I shot behind me. I didn't really aim and I accidentally hit him in the heart. I'm sure you remember the news report." If possibly, Donald's face grew even paler than it was before. He looked completely horrified, probably because he just heard Douglas wasn't exactly trying to aim and still hit the heart of a police officer.

"Then what do you aim for?"

"Arms and legs, mostly," Douglas explained, hoping Donald would do the same. He knew Donnie wouldn't be able to live knowing he killed someone. "It will hurt so much they won't get up. And if they don't, just shoot a second time and then they'll definitely stay down." The sound of footsteps were growing louder, and Douglas was ready to shoot the first person who appeared.

"But have you ever…" Donald began, but he was interrupted by a gun shot. Because this hangar was so big, there was a big echo as well. One of the boxes was hit, but Douglas had chosen boxes with just guns to make a wall. Imagine if it were bombs, or grenades as first layer – this place would explode immediately! Those were only last layer, as a last resort. You never knew with these guys around…

Douglas picked one of the small holes he set up through the boxes and started to shoot back. Two ex-agents fell down when he replied. "Just shut up and shoot!" he had to yell or else his brother wouldn't hear him over the echo of gun shots.

"But you're the one talking!" Donald said in his defense. Douglas rolled his eyes.

"Just shut up and shoot!" He repeated, and even grabbed Donald's hand so he'd be sitting in the right position. The fight had begun. There was no going back now. it was either harm or be killed.

Gunshots rang through the air for a certain amount of time. Even in combat, the two brothers differed. Douglas was quick, used up the most bullets and took down most enemies. He was now using the fifth gun, while Donald was about to grab the third of the evening. He shot slower, but at least he took his time to aim before shooting, hoping each time he did not kill them. As for their enemies, they weren't getting any closer to the two brothers. The bodies of their comrades on the ground made it harder for them to advance, and their screams and groans of pain demoralized them, as they already managed to take down twenty while remaining unharmed themselves. You could say they were winning.

Douglas started to notice some smaller details. Their enemies tried to hit them from the rows parallel to this one, but the 'walls' he made were too high for the soldiers to shoot through or climb over. That would get the ex-agents injured anyway. Another detail he noticed was a gap. It was as big as his hand, on Donald's side of the row. If one of them noticed this gap, they could easily take out Donald.

Just as Douglas noticed the gap, another soldier made the same discovery.

Douglas did not think straight; instead of thinking his actions through, he acted using his instincts. He quickly pulled Donald away from the gap, taking his place. you could say he switched places with his brother. With a swift move, he aimed for the ex-agent at the other side, and both Douglas and the soldier found time to shoot the other. They shot almost simultaneously, only differing with milliseconds.

Donald did not have much time to wonder about Douglas' sudden decision to switch places, mostly because he saw four very familiar kids run in and taking down the remaining ex-agents. He hoped his kids had also thought of Graham. He was distracted by his kids, so he didn't look at his brother. Eventually, Chase noticed Donald was standing behind the make-shift wall and he assumed Douglas was hiding behind it as well.

"We'll handle them," said Chase, "You and Douglas have to get out of here." He too had noticed the big guns in here, and it was safer if the two brothers without bionics ere gone before any of these could be used. Chase ran away, joining his siblings in the fight. Donald was glad they had seen his message, glad he could leave this place. He turned around to tell Douglas the good news.

His smile faded away when he saw his brother. Douglas was lying on the ground. he was still conscious – he was breathing and his eyes were open – but he did not look good at all. He was getting really pale and a red stain quickly spread over his shirt and jacket. The main source was somewhere close to his heart. Yet, the stain was too big to really locate where it came from. He was breathing rapidly, uneven, and his facial expression screamed fear and shock.

"Douglas!" Donald yelled. He immediately dropped on his knees next to his brother. He ripped the shirt and while he was hoping he wouldn't faint or throw up (blame the blood and the situation), he found out where the blood was flowing out. It was right under his heart, having hit part of his left lung. He didn't need to be a doctor to know this was bad – and also did nothing to stop the bleeding because he was panicking and forgot what he had to do.

Then, Donald realized it. This was a sacrifice – sort of. The bullet was meant for me. Douglas had noticed the attacker. He made them switch places, he took the bullet. He sacrificed himself for his older brother. Donald was shaking his head. There were so many emotions and so little time to express them all. He was angry (why did he take that darned bullet?) and shocked and afraid, among others.

"Why the heck did you take that bullet?" Donald almost shouted these words. He and Douglas have never truly been the best of friends. Douglas may have turned good, but they still weren't the best of friends. Then, why did he sacrifice himself.

"Didn't want you to die." His voice was hoarse, and it was just a little louder than a whisper. He had trouble talking, and trouble hiding his fear. It was as if he too was surprised by his own actions.

"Don't talk, it'll make it worse." Again, Donald was no doctor, but he did know talking in general took a lot of energy and would make things worse. He looked around. The bionic kids did not know what was happening behind the wall, but they were about to. "Hang on, we'll take you to the hospital." Donald was about to get up and ask Bree to come over, but Douglas stopped him. His wrist was taken in a firm grasp, by Douglas' hand. Douglas had never looked more serious and desperate than that moment.

"Donnie…" it was barely a whisper, a small sound among battle noises in the hangar, "take care of the kids… please…"

Donald started to panic. "No, Douglas, no! you're staying here, 'kay? You're gonna make it! Douglas!" Douglas didn't listen. He closed his eyes and with a last breath, the grasp on his brother's wrist weakened until it held no energy to keep holding Donald's wrist. Donald desperately tried to find a pulse, a heartbeat, anything… there was none.

Tears welled up in his eyes. Douglas was gone. His brother, the one person who knew him better than anyone else, was no more with them. Silently, the tears ran over his cheeks and he started to sob. He was crying just as the time he thought his brother had died many years ago. He may not have known he faked his death, but he now had seen it happen in front of his very eyes. Douglas had closed his eyes and said goodbye by expressing his one last wish.

_Take care of the kids…_ he would. Donald would take care of the kids. He always had taken care of them, off course, but now he would do so even harder. He'd try better; he'd be a better father. Hopefully he'd please his brother enough… to think he had only been mad at his brother ten minutes ago for not making contact… why was he even mad? He played his role so well… even he thought that Douglas had turned evil again until his brother tried to free him…_Douglas…_

He remained stunned by grief and sobbed until the four kids found him in that position, kneeling at Douglas Davenport's dead body.

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**Hey guys! I have no idea where the idea for this one-shot came from, but I'm glad it showed up because I loved going to that point. Also, ****this is one of the saddest things I've ever written so far. ****I know I can write something even more sad than this, but that'll have to wait for a month or six, twelve. I almost started crying when I wrote this. **

**Wanna read more Lab Rats stories from me? Go to my profile and go search under 'My stories'. I'd recommend Ultimate Mission, because I'm currently working on that one.**

**-Writer207**


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